


Conceding

by disillusionist9



Series: Choose Dare [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Forbidden Forest, Implied Sexual Content, Life Debt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disillusionist9/pseuds/disillusionist9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #11 of 100 | Padma is found by the Carrows in the Forbidden Forest while on her way to meet with a man who owes her his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conceding

"She's one of those brats that follow the Longbottom boy," snarled Alecto Carrow. "Ravenclaw, this one. Seent her sneaking about the Hospital wing with that meddling broad Pomfrey."

"Clever little bitch she's been, hiding in the castle, dirtying her nose with the lesser folk, sullying herself with one of those half breeds in the forest no doubt! Found her out there moongazing with the beasts, didn't we?" Amycus giggled at his own distasteful and frankly terrible joke.. "Snape didn't see us leave, did he?"

Alecto yanked on the girl's arm again, hard enough to nearly dislocate her already injured shoulder. Their trudge towards the Death Eater campground in the Forbidden Forest was neither stealthy nor direct, winding around lost several times even with several _Point Mes_.

As they rounded the base of another great tree, a voice deep as the Black Lake greeted them. "Good evening, Amycus. Alecto."

Identical frowns replaced the gleeful grins of moments before. Alecto tried to cover up how out of breath she was but was miserably unsuccessful. "Rabastan. Didn't know you was here."

"Were, you daft cow. It's were, not was! Your grammar is as deplorable as your magical ineptitude. Leave the girl to me and piss off. Take Amycus with you and get back to the school before the Headmaster suspects. You're both sorry excuses for Slytherins, you're dodgy as all get out. Fuck off, already!"

Padma dropped to her hands and knees, catching all of her weight on her right wrist and breaking several of the small bones inside. Her arms were covered in partially healed bruises and gashes so the gentle touch from above made her bones ache.

Silence graced the air in the roots of the great tree above them. Rabastan moved his wand in steady arcs around her body, healing each mark as he went along. The inky hood pulled low over his face could not compare to the silken softness of his hair as it tickled her neck each time he loomed over her. Months ago, on Christmas, his skin had smelled of stale body odor, decay, and blood in the aftermath of the Dark Lord's wrath. Harry had done something, he'd escaped, or so Potterwatch had mentioned. Padma was in the wrong place at the wrong time that night, trying to heal some of the fairies who brought her medicinal herbs for the hospital wing. The tiny sprites were damaged in the blast from Voldemort's fury.

Rabastan had stumbled to her, falling unconscious in the root of the trees she hid in for days on end. She didn't know who he was, but it felt lovely to run her fingers through his coal black hair with lines of sooty grey at the temples as she healed him.

Damp, clean earth surrounded her in the setting sun, but he was woodsmoke and crushed bay leaves. "I can't do enough," he murmured. "They can't be too suspicious when you go back up to the castle. Can you move your wrist?"

Padma felt herself nod automatically. A moment later she was sitting up against rough bark with warm rough hands on her face. They felt a bit sticky and smelled so coppery she could taste it on the back of her tongue.

"You've got my blood on you," she sighed, pulling one of his hands away. She grasped the first cloth she could reach and began to wipe his palms clean with the hem of her school robes.

He didn't stop her. His eyes weighed heavily on her face, watching her movements and as her blood smeared the henna patterns on her palm. When the sleeve of his robe moved she could see the edge of his Dark Mark and repressed a shudder. As she finished removing the last of her blood from his hands and his stroking fingers removed it from her face, the two relaxed into the hollow beneath the tree. Utterly spent, Rabastan pulled her closer to him selfishly, just to hold her to him for a few moments longer. She, the lotus flower bursting from the suffocating mud of his life. Mud he'd been sure ran through her veins, her mixed half-blood. He didn't know what to believe anymore, now that he'd tasted the skin below her collarbone, his hands had smoothed the hurts from her bones, and his heart had moved to reside in the space below hers. A hammock of light, a nest made of the lift debt he owed her, remained in the hollow of his chest.

"You need to go back," he repeated after the sun fell completely behind the horizon.

"Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself?"

He felt more than heard her words mumbled against his neck. Rabastan's arms stayed wrapped around her too-thin frame in reply. "You'll only have the stars to light your way."

Padma moved her hand with the final traces of henna and placed it gently on his cheek; the hint of evening shadow was rough against her palm. Her lips lingered over his, whispering,"I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

The moon was patient; it waited for them, waited for the star and the lotus to drift apart before rising above the trees.


End file.
